


Sailing Ships

by CatS81



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Banter, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatS81/pseuds/CatS81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a bitterly cold night in Oslo, Carolyn and Douglas try to keep warm....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sailing Ships

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: ‘Cabin Pressure’ sadly does not belong to me – all characters were created, and rightly belong to, the amazing John Finnemore.
> 
> Spoilers: Nothing specific, but let’s assume this is set somewhere between ‘Limerick’ and ‘Newcastle’ – ie. post-Helena but pre-Herc ;)
> 
> A/N: I know this is a ridiculously contrived set-up but the idea just wouldn’t leave me alone – my apologies ;) My next offering will hopefully be more along the hurt/comfort lines if the muse will cooperate….Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it.

Carolyn Knapp-Shappey shifted uncomfortably beneath the pitifully thin eiderdown and shivered, the cold seeping relentlessly into her bones as she struggled to keep herself warm against the bitter winter inclemency. Even her thick fleece pyjamas were apparently no match for a harsh December night in one of Oslo’s less than first-rate hotels, the soft material doing little to shield her from the ferocious ambient chill. She sighed irritably, dismayed by the plume of white as her breath escaped her body, visible even in the oppressive dark of the room. _Oh, this is ridiculous_ , she mused grumpily, grimacing as she turned onto her side and felt a spring dig determinedly into her ribs. _Last bloody room in the hotel, my foot. I should’ve bloody well told them to stick it. I should’ve told them to stick it all the way to the four-star place down the road, and…._

“Are you going to keep this up all night?”

Carolyn rolled her eyes at the disgruntled demand from the adjacent bed and she heaved another purposeful sigh. “Oh, do shut up.”

Douglas Richardson gave a low, throaty chuckle, his bed creaking beneath him as he moved to face her in the blackness. “This was your idea, Carolyn….”

“And I suppose you’d rather have slept in GERTI, would you? In minus ten degrees Centigrade and a biting easterly wind?”

“Of course not, but….”

“There you are, then.”

“…but surely you must have been able to find us more suitable accommodation than this.” Douglas’ deep baritone was teasing. “More than one _room_ , at least.”

“Yes, Douglas,” she replied acerbically, sarcasm liberally laced through her cutting, glassy soprano. “I had my free pick of hotels throughout the _whole_ of Oslo and this veritable pleasure dome was the only one that took my fancy.”

“Well, it’s terrific….”

“And of course the idea of the four of us sharing a room was just the icing on the cake.”

“Or perhaps even the cherry on top of that.”

Carolyn ignored him and blew out an exasperated breath, rolling uncomfortably back onto her spine. “Where on earth _are_ Martin and Arthur, anyway?”

“Oh, God knows. Out securing alternative beds for the night if they’ve got any sense.”

“Please.” She pulled a disdainful face into the inky grey at the unwelcome images his words had conjured.

Douglas gave an apparently lackadaisical yawn. “Actually, I think Arthur said something about swimming in the sea….”

“He did not!”

“Or maybe it was the fjord….”

“You’re hilarious, Douglas. Utterly bloody hilarious.”

She frowned as he laughed heartily at her disdain, only marginally pacified when he instantly relented. “I’m sure they’re in a bar somewhere, Carolyn.”

“Hm,” she groused. “I’m not sure that makes me feel entirely better, as it happens.”

Douglas grunted indignantly. “You’re not the one who’ll have to share a bed with a pathetically drunk Martin in who knows how many hours’ time.”

“No, just an Arthur high on sugar from his beloved pineapple juice.”

He gave a disingenuous chuckle. “I _would_ say I’d swap you….”

“Let me guess: for a fee?”

“…but there’s actually not much in it, all things considered.”

“ _That_ I will grant you,” she replied wryly. “But given that one of them is my son and the other is my employee, I suggest we maintain the eminent necessity of the status quo, don’t you?”

Douglas made a low noise of concession, the sound rumbling through his chest, and he paused fractionally before addressing her again. “Two twin rooms would have done, you know. I wouldn’t have _insisted_ on singles.”

“Oh, well, that’s big of you,” she shot back, easily slicing through his attempt to entertain her. “Perhaps next time you’d like to put your hand in your pocket for a four-star establishment when we’re stranded?”

He pretended to consider it. “I’d have been amenable for three-star. Or any star, come to that.”

“Good; that settles it, then. Next time we’re unexpectedly detained, you can cough up the cash for any lodging of your choosing.”

“And presumably get a reimbursement for the difference?”

Carolyn laughed mockingly. “You presume wrongly, Raffles. As well you might have known.”

“Well, it was worth a shot.”

“Foolhardy, at best,” she retorted with teasing derision. “Need I remind you that I am neither drunk nor asleep, either of which I would most definitely have to be to fall for your ridiculous attempt at extortion, however hypothetical.”

He gave a snort of begrudging accession. “No; more’s the pity.”

“Drunk or asleep?”

“Oh, let’s see. Drunken dragon or…?”

“Be careful, Douglas,” she interrupted bitingly. “Be very, _very_ careful.”

“…sleeping beauty? Tough old choice, that.”

“Ah, we seem to be back to you being hilarious. Please, funny pilot, regale me further; how many hours is it again until sunrise?”

“In a Scandinavian winter? About twenty, I’d say.”

She laughed despite herself, his darkly sardonic hyperbole amusing her. “Well, there we are. Consider it a challenge.”

“And the prospect of sleep, madam?”

“Bloody good luck to you getting any sleep in this damned refrigerator of a bedroom.” She shivered anew, groaning as the icy wind rattled the delicate wooden frames that adorned the windows, her woefully inadequate bed linen pathetically feeble against the merciless blast. “ _God_ , it’s cold.”

“Is it?” Douglas’ velvet tone was nonchalantly casual. “I hadn’t really noticed. I’m as warm as….”

“Oh, don’t be absurd. I can see my own _breath_ , Douglas.”

“I feel that madam is somewhat exaggerating.”

“I most certainly am not. Do you not remember the days before central heating?”

Douglas made a show of searching his memory. “Before my time, I’m afraid.”

“What rot.”

“Anyway, there is central heating….”

“Well, what sort of hotel doesn’t have a thermostat in the rooms, then?”

He chuckled at her growing exasperation, and she tutted loudly and disapprovingly in his direction. “I presume you’re using the term ‘hotel’ in its loosest possible sense?”

“Oh, enough,” she growled testily, rolling her eyes despite being aware he was unable to see her. “Don’t let me stop you from leaving and finding alternative….”

“Oh, _no_ ,” he purred smoothly, seemingly determined to needle his way beneath her skin. “Not now I’m cocooned in my _warm_ , _comfortable_ ….”

“Douglas,” she warned abruptly. “If you don’t shut your insufferably smug mouth this instant….”

“To be fair, Carolyn, you can hardly blame me if you drew the short straw in the bed lottery. The fair-as-you-could-get-it, fifty-fifty bed lottery, at that.”

“At this point, Douglas, I am so _unbearably_ cold that I fully intend to blame you for any further misfortune I suffer, regardless.”

“Oh, charming. And there was I on the verge of offering you my as-yet unoccupied side.”

She drew a sharp breath, inordinately discomfited by the offhand nature of his unexpected suggestion, but she forced herself to quickly rally, ignoring the mortifying pounding of her heart against her ribcage. “Of course, if you were really the gentleman you purport to be, you’d simply offer to swap places.”

“Ah, but then we’d _both_ be hypothermic.”

“I would be no longer hypothermic, is the point. So it’d be a simple like-for-like trade.”

“That’s positively mercenary, Carolyn.” “Yes, well…that’s what comes from too many bloody years spent around you.”

He affected a deeply dramatic sigh. “Alright, then, how’s this: I’ll graciously relinquish the part of the bed I have been expertly warming for the last hour….”

“It was pure dumb luck that you ended up with that bed, Douglas; nothing more.”

“…and we leave the two idiotic stop-outs to slip between your current frozen sheets at their leisure. Deal?”

She paused for a long moment of uncertainty, his proposition achingly appealing to her frigid, weary bones, to her painfully seized muscles, to her agonisingly numb skin. She was desperately tempted, every fibre of her body longing for warmth and comfort, yet her mind was furiously warning her against capitulation, admonishing her for even considering acquiescence. She inhaled slowly, the glacial air stinging her lungs as she calmly considered her intense desire for alleviation against the rational sway of her better judgement, frowning with frustration into the shadows at her uncharacteristic hesitancy. _Stop over-analysing_ , she told herself sternly after several further tumultuous minutes of indecision. _It’s a simple matter of thermodynamics; nothing more, nothing less…but oh, God, I’d be playing right into his conceited, egotistical hands…and giving him enough ammunition to last until Armageddon…._

“What say you, Chief?”

She sighed at his light-hearted prompt, feeling herself beginning to weaken as another brutal gust of wind clattered against the window panes, and she was out of bed before her mind could fully register her actions, biting back a whimper as the icy air ruthlessly engulfed her body. She was instantly grateful for the darkness as she felt herself flush at his low, reactive snigger, irritated by his uncanny ability to disarm her, and she steadfastly forced down her lingering doubts, her anxious misgivings as she approached him. She heard him slide smoothly across to the opposite side of the bed, unable to prevent a devilish smile as he groaned in displeasure at the contrasting temperature of the sheets, and she quickly moved to lie beside him, pulling the duvet swiftly up to her chin. _Oh, good **God**_ …. She felt herself shudder instantly in rapture, revelling in the blissful heat of his body and feeling it beginning to imbue her with warmth, its soothing tendrils wrapping themselves around her limbs, any qualms she may have harboured dissipating rapidly into a mist of hazy contentment.

“Better?” he inquired huskily after several moments, smiling in fond amusement at the muted sounds of elation emanating from his new bed-mate.

Carolyn recovered her composure, though stifled a groan as she rolled onto her side to face him, feeling a fresh wave of warmth radiate from his body and into hers. “Yes, alright, Douglas. You don’t need to sound so damned self-satisfied.”

“All I asked was….”

“Of _course_ it’s better, you clot. You’re a veritable one-man furnace.”

He laughed, the sound reverberating richly about the capacious bones of his chest. “Do we want to explore that construct further, Carolyn?”

“Not on your life,” she fired back instantly. “‘Furnace’ as in ‘expeller of hot air’; both literally and figuratively, in your particular case.”

“Ah, pillow talk,” he retorted mildly, his honeyed tone teasing through the gloom. “Always such an intensely pleasurable part of bed-sharing, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it, just?”

“Not my _favourite_ part, admittedly.”

“Well, obviously.”

His laughter deepened at her coolly undaunted response; she was aware that he had always been warmly entertained by her innate ability to parry against his attempts to depose her.

“Though, I’m warning you, Lyn: come anywhere near me with those notorious ice-blocks you like to call ‘feet’ and all bed-sharing benefits will be declared nil and void.”

“They’re a miraculous invention called _socks_ , Douglas. It truly boggles my mind what they’ll manage to come up with next.” Carolyn reached to poke his shin with her toe in demonstration, pausing briefly as she allowed herself to linger on the diminutive pronoun he had chosen to use, a flurry of emotion swirling tightly in her chest as her tone sobered of its own volition. “It’s been a long time since you last called me _that_.”

The duvet rose and fell with his shrug. “Well, it’s been a long time since I was last in bed with you. Think of it as a context thing.”

“Hm,” she intoned neutrally, refusing to dwell on the memories as they surfaced unbidden in her mind . “Just so long as you don’t view this as carte blanche to use it on a whim.”

“You mean in front of Martin or Arthur?”

“I _do_ mean that, Douglas.” She gave a long-suffering sigh. “How exceedingly astute you are.”

“It goes without saying, naturally.”

“I should hope so.”

He was quiet for a brief moment, and she flinched when he eventually risked a pensive, “Suits you, though. Always did.”

She steadfastly ignored the notes of sentimentality that had crept into his tone and tried to temper the sigh that had escaped beneath her control. “Yes, well. Just make sure it doesn’t accidentally-on purpose slip out in the course of next trying to play for the advantage.”

Douglas clicked his tongue in disapproval. “I’m always trying to play for the advantage…”

“ _Trying_ being the operative word.”

“…but as I said: it’s about context. From memory I only ever used that particular name when we were….”

“That’s quite enough.”

He grinned as she cut him off tartly. “Euphemisms abound, Lyn.”

“Well, keep them to yourself, clever pilot.” She drew a breath to cut him off as she felt him do likewise. “And don’t even _think_ about suggesting it as a word game.”

That earned her a cordial laugh, the sound echoing about the stillness in the rest of the room. “I _wasn’t_ thinking about it, as it happens….”

“Douglas….”

“…although _now_ I am.”

“You suit yourself.” She turned away from him, bundling the duvet further up around her shoulders and luxuriating once more in its delectable heat. “I’m going to sleep.”

“So, of course there are the obvious ones: friends with….”

“Stop it,” she warned him ferociously, her tone fiercely caustic despite being partially muffled by the bedclothes. “Stop it _now_ , Douglas.”

“Do you know,” he replied wickedly, stretching languidly beside her. “I don’t think I will.”

“You most certainly bloody well will.”

“Roars the terrifying lioness from within her nest of fluffy blankets. It really is the stuff of nightmares, Carolyn.”

“I suggest,” she growled irritably, “that you stop acting like an adolescent and go to sleep before me smothering you with a pillow becomes less of a nightmare and more of an actual reality.”

“Truly terrifying.” He yawned loudly and shifted the duvet to envelope more of his ample shoulders. “I’m all of a quiver beneath this top-quality Norwegian yarn.”

“Sleep, you colossal idiot; believe me, I won’t hesitate to make good on that threat.”

He chuckled softly, amiably. “Good night, Lyn.”

She felt her stomach lurch anew at the deep drawl of her epithet from his throat, her skin prickling with heat as her mind rebelliously replayed the occasions long past when he had murmured it greedily against her body, but she was careful to maintain a steadfastly indifferent tone as she bade him a similar platitude. Blissfully, she could almost instantly feel the siren call of slumber, her limbs relaxing drowsily in the enveloping warmth as she welcomed the blessed relief of unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Carolyn awoke gently after barely two hours, her eyes remaining drowsily closed as she ascended through the heavenly haze of restful sleep, and she felt herself smile slightly as she became aware of the pleasant weight of an anonymous arm about her waist, the solid bulk of a temperate body moulded against hers. She was temporarily lost in the floating limbo between sleeping and waking, vaguely conscious of the rhythmical breath warm against her collar bone and she instinctively pressed herself closer to its source, the strong arm that held her encouraging her back against the broad planes of his chest. It was sublime, the long-forgotten sensation of being held in the cocoon of sleep by another person, and she gave a soft sigh as she felt him nuzzle gently against her neck, his coarse stubble cosily tickling her skin. She felt inordinately comfortable, her limbs luxuriously heavy, and she was unable to rouse herself fully to consciousness, content to remain hovering in a hazy cloud of relaxation, edged with the first tiny stirrings of arousal.

They remained ensconced together beneath the insulating thickness of the bedclothes for several further moments before she shifted slightly in his arms, the fog beginning gradually to lift, and she felt him groan in protest as the sound reverberated in a sensual wave through her body. It took a few seconds longer for her to place its disconcertingly familiar tone, her brain desperately searching its sleep-addled synapses as she became increasingly aware of her surroundings, and she was electrically jolted to full alertness as her mind suddenly, horrifyingly made the connection. Her eyes flew open in utter panic, blinking sightlessly into the inky blackness of the room, her heart accelerating rapidly into a painful thumping against her breastbone, and she instantly began to struggle for breath. _Oh, you stupid, stupid…._

“Douglas,” she managed huskily, clearing her throat of the last vestiges of sleep and steadfastly pushing his determined arm away from her curves. “Douglas, wake up.”

He was singularly unresponsive to her command, his breathing remaining profoundly steady, his body settling once more against hers, and she felt her alarm intensify, an overwhelming need to rouse him becoming increasingly prominent in her mind. “Douglas, for goodness sake….”

“Hm?” he murmured sluggishly, his body agonisingly warm as he instinctively pressed himself infinitesimally closer, evidently still embroiled in the soft miasma of slumber.

She elbowed him sharply, fighting every inclination to simply melt into his embrace. “Wake _up_.”

He gave a deep grunt of disapproval, catching her wrist between his strong fingers to prevent any further impact before lapsing into stillness anew, manifestly falling back beneath the siren spell of dormancy as his irritation began to fade.

Carolyn heaved a shuddering sigh, a vague sense of hysteria beginning to prickle along her spine as she struggled furiously against the unconscious weight of him. “So help me, Douglas, open your eyes and….”

“Lyn?” His voice was thickly coated with sleep as he finally started to stir, confusion etched into every contour of its resonant timbre as he apparently struggled to recollect their relative positions and the events of the previous few hours.

“Yes of course, me, you cretin. Will you _please_ move your…?”

“What the hell are we…?”

“Just move your arm and let me….”

“Oh, _Christ_ …Lyn….”

She blinked at the change in his tone, the raggedly desperate exhalation of her name as he held her firmly, his lips beginning to brush gently across the sensitive landscape of her neck and unerringly finding her pulse point, her heart threatening to explode through her chest as he pressed a series of determined, purposeful kisses against her skin. She was unable to supress a gasp at the sensation of his generous erection against her hip, the organic response of his body to hers, and she felt herself react in an instant flood of edgy, aching desire. _Oh, God…Oh, **God** …._

With a monumental effort to overcome the powerful drive of her instinct she disentangled herself from his arms and turned over to face him, applying a forceful pressure to his chest with her palms. “Douglas, you need to wake up,” she intoned emphatically. “And I do mean this _instant_.”

“I _am_ ,” he replied huskily, his hand snaking round to the small of her back and pulling her roughly flush to him anew, shifting his hips slowly against her in deliberate, wanton suggestion. “Certain _important_ parts of me, at the very least.”

Carolyn tempered a moan, well aware that her body was threatening to betray her as she struggled to control the electric hum of arousal as it sizzled along each of her nerves, the undeniable want that was causing her thoughts to fly haphazardly apart, but she made herself push him away once more. “Listen to me very carefully, Douglas,” she told him intently, surprised by the authoritatively even timbre of her voice as she held him at arm’s length. “You have two options: either I dump you unceremoniously into the coldest shower imaginable….”

He made a sound of disinclination low in his throat. “Or…?”

“Or you go and get into that other frozen ice-block of a bed. The choice is entirely yours and you have ten seconds in which to make it.”

“ _Yes_ ,” he drawled slowly, sardonically. “It might be a bit of a squash with Martin and Arthur currently….”

“Well, let’s see.” She turned away from him and fumbled for her mobile phone on the bedside table, using its screen to illuminate the still empty alternative bed to her left, and feeling relief thrum through her at the confirmation of her hope. “Ah, you’re in luck, Casanova. Neither Captain nor steward have as yet decided to grace us with their presence.”

“Terrific.”

“So, come on, then, what’s it to be: cold shower or cold bed? Whichever you think would work more…effectively for your little problem.”

“ _Or_ ,” he continued doggedly, ignoring her pointed jibe, “for old time’s sake we _could_ just….”

“No.”

“…take the _most proven_ effective course.”

“ _No_ , Douglas.”

“Did I imagine your somewhat breathy sighs, then, madam? Your gasp of…?”

“Evidently,” she snapped, and then quickly felt herself relent, her tone softening even as she further ordered him, “Get out, Douglas. That ship sailed a long time ago, and we both know it.”

He was silent for a protracted moment, her words settling into the space between them before he gave a hollow sigh of grudging concession, and she drew a breath as he reached for her hand in the darkness, bringing her fingers to his lips, her eyes closing at the sensory overload as his mouth grazed her wrist.

“Point taken,” he intoned gently, before releasing her and throwing back the bedclothes, wincing at the biting air attacking his skin as he padded dutifully across to the opposite bed and slid reluctantly beneath its wintry sheets.

“Is it doing the trick?” Carolyn called lightly several moments later, determined to restore their interaction to its characteristic exchange of jabs and steadfastly refusing to accept that she had instantly begun to miss his presence beside her.

He gave a snort of objection and rolled on to his side. “Go to sleep, Carolyn.”

“Oh, I intend to. Nice and cosy in my warm, comfortable bed.”

“Pleased with yourself, are you? That you successfully managed to oust me into the snow?”

“That was all of your own making, Douglas.”

“I can hardly be held responsible for simple biology. Especially not whilst asleep.”

“Indeed you can, and you shall be.”

He lapsed into a brief silence, and she could almost hear the uncharacteristic consternation as he internally debated his next move, could almost see the waves of distress emanating from every atom of his body despite the darkness. Her name, when it next left his mouth, reached her ears in a throaty implore, her heart contracting painfully at the evident anguish. “Lyn….”

She swallowed dryly, willing a placidity to her tone that was at odds with her hidden turmoil . “What?”

“I’m not a _complete_ cad….”

“I know that, you idiot.”

“I never intended….” He broke off and heaved a sigh of apparent self-directed frustration. “What I mean is….”

Carolyn interrupted him swiftly, her tone atypically gentle. “I _know_ , Douglas.”

“Good.”

She was contemplatively quiet for a long moment before addressing him again, the timbre of her voice reverting to its usual clipped certitude as she instructed, “Now, for goodness sake, let’s get some sleep….”

“Agreed.”

“…and never speak of this again.”

“Agreeing on two counts, Carolyn?” he teased. “Will wonders never cease?”

“Apparently not. Though I expect normal service to be well and truly resumed by the morning.”

“Your wish is my command, dear leader.”

She chuckled warmly and tried to settle further beneath the duvet, adamantly ignoring the odd constriction that had stubbornly gripped her chest, the sharp stab of regret nagging irritatingly in her gut. She was supremely confident of her actions in expelling him from her side, no doubts remaining about the judgement call she had made, and yet she was unable to completely shake the tiny flicker of anguish that lingered in the darkest corner of her heart. Her body had reacted to his proximity with an unnervingly brutal speed, the long-forgotten sensation of the broad planes of him flooding her with memories, and she had been emphatically, agonisingly tempted. Presently she was thoroughly grateful for the steely will that was intrinsic to her nature, the iron control she had exerted over her desire in the years since she had last succumbed to Douglas Richardson, and she drew a slow breath, aware that she had been on the edge and thankful that she had failed to yield.

 _Some things are best left well and truly in the past_ , she told herself sternly. _Entangling myself with that man again would be an absolute recipe for disaster….I should have known that accepting his invitation would be a stupidly dangerous thing, even if his intentions were genuine…and a Douglas Richardson with a genuinely selfless intention would be a very rare thing indeed_. She frowned darkly as she allowed the sentiment to acclimatise, eventually chiding herself for the critically sceptical judgement; his halting attempt at an apology rang insistently in her memory and she sighed, the conflicted nature of her feelings for the man causing a deep ache to insinuate itself across her shoulders. _To sleep_ , she commanded herself determinedly. _By the morning this will all just be an amorphous haze of unreality, easily deniable and never to be repeated. It’s as simple as that. It has to be._ She exhaled softly, permitting herself to embrace the anguish at her self-deception before banishing it once more to the depths. Gradually, she allowed the gently hypnotic rhythm of his breathing to lull her into an uneasy truce of fitful, restless sleep.

FIN


End file.
